


Paper Hearts

by unfortunate17



Series: Paper Hearts/Twenty Pounds [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: in which Liam thinks Zayn is beautiful and goes through hell to get him - only, in the end, to have Zayn make him leave.<br/>..................<br/>Liam doesn’t watch the screen at all - too focused on the heat of Zayn’s arm around his shoulder. And while it’s actually uncomfortable, Liam’ shaking from it. Because Zayn is so stunning and to bask in his light is a little surreal in and of itself. </p><p>He doesn’t watch to see whether it ends well or not - and really, he should have taken that as an omen. </p><p>Zayn takes him to a cheap motel room after, hands gripping Liam’s like vice. He doesn’t even flinch when Liam’s scar tissue is revealed. And Liam supposes it’s not even that big of a surprise really. Because if they were looking for scar tissue and pain - they’d just have to look at his shoulders and eyes and walk and - him.<br/>...................</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Depression….and jesus - self harm, eating disorders, and just some really messed up shit - nothing graphic though, sexual references.

…………………………………………

Liam meets Zayn in nursery school and even as a toddler, Zayn has huge, almond shaped eyes that glitter with beautiful laughter and a smile like ice surrounded by apple cheeks. 

Of course Liam doesn’t really  _meet_ him - no, no, Liam’s much too shy for that so instead he stands in the corner of the room, holding his mum’s tissue (because he was still the only mummy’s boy left apparently), watching as Zayn and two other boys kicked down the tower of blocks Cindy had made and break Jim’s crayons. 

Because that’s who Zayn was and that’s what he did. Except when he smiled, Liam sort of forgets that, confused by how something so beautiful could be so rotten. 

It’s something about outer appearances and not judging a book by it’s cover - but Liam doesn’t really understand because Zayn’s not a book. He’s a person. A person - a boy - a boy that Liam just wants to talk to and smile back at. 

So he clenches the handkerchief into a ball and drops it into the rubbish bin behind him. Maybe now Zayn’ll think he’s not such a crybaby anymore and he’ll walk over here and shake his hand the way Ms. Sunny had taught them to.

Whatever it is, Liam doesn’t know - but he does wait. 

……

Five weeks into primary school, years after he tossed his innocence into a bin, Liam looks up from his crushed lunch bag to find Zayn staring curiously down at him, flanked by two boys that he never seems to be away from. 

He cocks his head, “What’s wrong with your lunch?”

“It -” Liam shudders because Zayn’s finally, finally talking to him and maybe Zayn would also like to come home and eat cookies because Liam would share them with him. He really would - even if they were chocolate chip and his absolute favorite. “It - I stepped on it. By mistake. Didn’t mean to though.”

Zayn nods before folding his mouth into a wide grin. He reaches into his lunchbox and pulls out a sandwich, “Do you want this?”

And Liam will most definitely share his cookies - in fact, Zayn can have them all. His stomach rumbles abruptly and Liam flushes in embarrassment, “Yes please.”

Zayn’s smile widens until Liam starts to think it looks more dangerous than happy. “Here you go, then,” he says quietly and the boys next to him titter in amusement. 

Liam eyes them warily, but Zayn looks so beautifully earnest and he’s here and offering him lunch when all the other kids just turn their heads on him or laugh at him with palms covering their cherry mouths. 

“Thanks,” he whispers, voice awed and Zayn really smirks this time, raising two fingers in goodbye and Liam can’t help but think how  _cool_ he looks. He wishes he could be that cool - but he isn’t. He’s just lousy, stupid old Liam Payne with the clumsy hands and tripping feet. 

It’s only later, much after lunch, when the teacher is putting up the multiplication tables that Liam overhears that Zayn and his friends had skinned a worm and smushed it into the sandwich they’d managed to give to the freak. 

He goes home with a stomach ache and he watches as Zayn makes faces at him as he waits for his mum in the back of the classroom.

……

By the time Secondary school rolls around, Liam has learned to put his head down and close his mouth and sit down. Because it was much easier to observe than do in this world and he’d learned it the hard way. 

One day, he overhears the boys in the locker room laugh and catcall at him because he’d managed to break his glasses. They’d pinch his rounded, baby cheeks viciously and tell him to lay off the sandwiches (because everyone knew what had happened and Liam had apparently been the last to find out). Liam blinks back tears and nods, head bowed like he’s trained himself to be. 

Zayn is there too - of course he’s there - and he watches Liam with a smirk curling his mouth and sunlight hitting his smooth skin and high cheekbones. 

Liam looks at him carefully and Zayn smirks wider, bringing up two fingers in mock acknowledgment. And Liam would still do anything to be like him - to be liked like him - to be liked  _by_ him. 

So, foolishly, at age fourteen, Liam resolves to stop eating. 

……

By fifth form, Liam had managed to drop thirty pounds and his shoulders cave in, small, tiny, and fragile under the world’s weight. His mouth is acidic, pinched in from the constant fingers at the back of his throat and he was just so  _tired_. All the time. 

But the sleepy haze was almost welcome because as much as Liam thought - _nobody_ noticed. Not even his mum, who only patted his stomach during Thanksgiving break and joked that he should go easy on the gravy because she could see her little man  _growing_ before her very eyes. But Liam had fled in horror, tripped into the bathroom, and threw up the mouthful of turkey and bits of mashed potatoes he had forcibly shoved in. 

It’s precisely at that moment - and there’s nothing really special about that moment - that Liam finds himself in the mirror and looks at his scraggily figure in the reflection. He’s hollow for a moment - because he understands now that he’ll probably never amount to much. Because he may have good grades and a good head but, in this world, he’s learned that doesn’t take you very far. 

And it’s as if he’s standing there - at the edge of an abyss - as his fingers shakily pull open his razor. He doesn’t know what he’s doing the first time. It stings -  _really, really_ badly and burns too. But it grounds him and reminds him that he has control. That he can mark his skin if he chooses and that he’s not a victim of chance. 

Thus, with a pink line etched into wrist and gaunt cheeks Liam feels the most powerful he has in years. 

……

The next year, in sixth form, it becomes painfully obvious that Liam is the only virgin left in his year and the voices in the locker room have only gotten louder - as with the ones in his head. 

Which is  _hilarious_ because Liam honestly believed they would have stopped by now. Because he was skinny and everything now. Wasn’t he what they wanted? Because he thought he was what they wanted. 

He refuses the part of him that states that he’ll  _never_ be what they wanted. 

Zayn still looks at him with scorn in his eyes, turning to his match of the week to tell him about the freak who ate worms back in nursery. Because that’s how they turn out, yeah. Freaks and fuck ups. 

Except Zayn is still beautiful - even more so now - with cutting shoulders, spiraling ink, and curling smoke. He sparks into cruel life and infects Liam like a parasite, burning into every neuron and nerve ending - crashing his life into desolation around him. 

Because, Liam knows that he could be better if he were just allowed to. Just given a chance to. 

So instead of giving himself the chance, Liam pens words in the back of his maths class, which he knows he’s already failing beyond hope. 

_You’re beautiful._

_I’ll give you whatever you want - forget sharing, I’ll give it all to you._

_Please. Please. Please. Please._

It’s almost a prayer of some sort - the religion of Liam Payne: broken arms and clipped wings. 

He’s begging. 

……

Two weeks before the end of term, Zayn catches him outside of Creative Writing and he’s got golden eyes and golden skin and Liam’s never seen anything as stunning as him before. Never. Ever. Never.

And surprisingly, Zayn’s voice is soft and quiet and beautiful, “Do you want to see that film? The new superhero one? With me?”

Liam is silent.

“Come on, Li. It’ll be fun, yeah,” he averts his eyes, those glittering, glowing eyes, “But only if you want to.” 

“Yes,” he says - because what else can he say?

Zayn’s answering smile says it all for him. 

……

Liam doesn’t watch the screen at all - too focused on the heat of Zayn’s arm around his shoulder. And while it’s actually uncomfortable, Liam’ shaking from it. Because Zayn is so stunning and to bask in his light is a little surreal in and of itself. 

He doesn’t watch to see whether it ends well or not - and really, he should have taken that as an omen. 

Zayn takes him to a cheap motel room after, hands gripping Liam’s like vice. He doesn’t even flinch when Liam’s scar tissue is revealed. And Liam supposes it’s not even that big of a surprise really. Because if they were looking for scar tissue and pain - they’d just have to look at his shoulders and eyes and walk and -  _him._

But Zayn’s not looking at him. No, Zayn’s focused on the push and pull of his cock inside Liam and despite the beer stain on the carpet and the condom wrappers littering the bathroom floors, being in a dirty bed with Zayn, losing his virginity is exactly where Liam wants to be. 

Besides, he’d walked through hell to be here. 

Zayn holds him after, which is more than Liam really expects. 

“Had fun?” Zayn’s voice is gravelly as he reaches for another cigarette, lighting it in the already hazy room. 

Liam nods into his chest. 

“Good.”

……

It was all a dare. 

Whoever could get the anorexic, cutting, worm-eating freak’s virginity got twenty pounds.

Because that’s how much Liam’s virginity was worth.

Because that’s how much  _Liam_  was worth. 

Twenty Pounds. 

He sobs his way home - then laughs at his sobs because honestly, what was he really expecting?

And sometimes, it feels like there’s an ocean in front of him - waiting to suck him dry, grind him into tiny pebbles, and scatter him along the shore.

He’s off-pitch, hysterical when he dials Zayn’s number that night. 

“Hello?” The voice is groggy, guilt-free. 

Liam takes a deep breath, “You’re beautiful.”

The line is silent for a long moment and just as Liam thinks that Zayn’s already hung up, the voice cracks through the speakers faintly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam says back hoarsely. “Did anyone ever tell you that? You’re lovely. Stunning even.” 

There’s a rustling of sheets. “No,” Zayn admits.

“Well now you know.”

“Liam - I.” And that’s the end of it because it sounds to Liam as though Zayn doesn’t know what to say. 

“I hope you find someone that does tell you that -  _everyday._ And I hope you don’t forget it the way I did - because it’s hard to remember Zayn. It’s so, so hard.” 

“Liam,” Zayn sounds mildly concerned, “what’re you saying?”

Liam’s hands shake. “Goodbye,” he mutters, finality settling into his tone. 

“Wait - Liam. Wait - “

And Liam brings the phone down, blade slipping through his veins.

The line goes dead. 

……

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck. Yeah. Sorry. 
> 
> Zayn's story will be up in just a minute - called "Twenty Pounds"


End file.
